Love in Antiquity
by Parsley the Lion
Summary: Hermione falls down the dungeon stairs and breaks more than just her leg. She is thrown backwards in time with little hope of return. Will she ever get home, and what will happen in the meantime? A HGSS, time travel fic, but not as you know it...
1. Prologue: The Here and Now

This is a mostly original idea, and before you say "A HGSS fic involving Time travel, that's not original at all!" and start flaming me, give it the benefit of the doubt. I mean, who said it was the HGSS you were expecting?

You'll find out in chapter two if you didn't understand that clue…

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of this story and any OC's that appear in later chapters.

Love in Antiquity

Prologue: The Here and Now

…

"_History begins_

_But the future will win…"_

_- Barenaked Ladies, When You Dream_

…

Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table with her nose in a book. She turned the page and wrinkled her nose thoughtfully, letting the noisy chatter of her fellow students (and Ron's '_hilarious'_ impression of Professor Snape) wash over her. She lifted a piece of buttered toast to her lips and took a bite, trying her very hardest to ignore Ron and Harry's conversation about Quidditch and the tactics thereof. She could feel the eyes of the much hated Potions Master drilling into the back of her head. She knew it was Snape watching her because he had been doing so for the past few weeks now. Hermione shivered slightly as Snape's constant staring sent a chill through her skin. She tried as best she could to ignore it; she would not give that smug git the satisfaction of knowing that he was unnerving her. She would not stoop to his level and be drawn into his childish and petty game. She would not allow _that man_ to get to her. She would simply have to ignore it, but by the gods that man was infuriating!

Severus allowed himself a satisfied smirk as he saw that Gryffindor know-it-all shiver at his gaze. He knew that the other members of _the Golden Trio_ were utterly oblivious to his new-found hobby, as were the other faculty. He was quite pleased with himself. _'Granger-baiting'_ was far more fun than humiliating that fool Longbottom. That boy had been so easy to break it was barely even worth his while to do so; but he had anyway. One had to maintain one's image, as the biggest, greasiest bastard that ever there was now, didn't one. Snape sipped his tar-black coffee and continued to watch little-miss-know-it-all, completely ignoring the conversations of the other members of staff.

Contrary to Severus' belief that nobody had noticed the newest target of his little mind-games, Albus watched his protégé watch Hermione. He silently wondered what exactly was going on inside Severus' head. He half-listened to what Minerva was saying to him, nodding and making the correct noises when he was required to. Professor Dumbledore wondered whether this new game of Snape's was a good or a bad thing. Hermione had certainly grown to become an attractive and highly intelligent young woman in the past few years and Albus hoped that Severus' particular attentions to her were not for reasons that would cause him, as headmaster, a headache later on. He hoped against hope that this was just a new way of Severus trying to get at Harry through his friends, rather than something that would result in lawsuits and jail sentences…

Minerva knew full well that the headmaster was not giving her his full attention and she wondered why. Following his gaze she wondered what on earth he was looking at Severus so thoughtfully for. She hoped that Albus did not have another of his crackpot schemes that would put the sullen Potions Professor, and by proxy _her_ students, in some form of danger. She frowned and continued to talk to Albus, so as not to alert his attention to the fact that she had discovered what he was doing… and then she noticed the direction of Severus' gaze. Snape was looking at the Gryffindor table, specifically; he was looking at Hermione. And smirking. This could not be good. This could not be good at all.

…

Ron, Harry and Hermione ran down the corridor towards the dungeons. They were running late for double Potions and they knew Snape was going to make them pay for their tardiness, but it was better to be late than to not show up at all.

"Hurry up!" screeched Hermione shrilly as she ran ahead.

"We are hurrying!" said Harry exasperatedly as he tried to catch up with the petite brunette.

"Yeah, 'Mione, we're going as fast as we can, jeez…" puffed Ron, slightly out of breath and desperately trying not to trip over his own feet.

Hermione turned around to reprimand Ron just as they reached the dungeon steps. Big mistake. Hermione screamed as she fell down the dungeon steps and landed with a thump and a tinkle of breaking glass.

Harry and Ron rushed to what they thought was their friend's aid, only to see her vanish in a cloud of smoke. This was not good. This was really not good at all.

"Crap," said Ron, "Where's she gone!"

The commotion brought Snape out of his classroom. He slammed the door dramatically and watched in horror as Granger disappeared. He had heard the breaking glass as she landed, he was not stupid. The question was not where was she, but when.

He had also heard Ron's expletive, "Crap indeed, Mr. Weasley."


	2. Chapter 1: Time Turned

Please don't kill me! Dodges flame-throwers and various sharp implements I'm extremely sorry this has taken so long to write and also that it's so pitifully short. There is a reason for that and it's… I'm about to say a bad word, so cover your ears (or possibly eyes…) kids… my _Advanced Higher Dissertation_! Sound of crickets chirping Come on people, it's a perfectly valid excuse. How can I be expected to update anything when I've got a 4, 500-ish word essay to write? Plus other schoolwork, social life, illness, and that most dreaded of things… writers' block.

Unfortunately, the first few chapters are a bit slower than the rest, mostly just setting the scene and introducing the main characters to you and to eachother. Sorry guys.

Disclaimer: I don't own the HP Universe, nor do I own any of the canon characters mentioned throughout the course of this little ficlet. Nor do I own any quotes/song lyrics used to set the scene. Capiche?

Love in Antiquity

Chapter 1: Time Turned

…

"_The world is changin'_

_Time is spinnin' fast_

_It's so amazing how you came into my life…"_

_- Anastasia, You'll Never Be Alone_

…

Hermione blinked several times before squinting as the bright light disappeared, leaving her in comparative darkness. She coughed as the smoke and dust settling around her irritated her throat. It took her a few moments to realise what had happened and whimpered in pain as she tried to sit up, immediately falling back to the ground. The fall had been hard and the usually astute young woman was disorientated by both the pain in her shattered limb and the smoke. She heard the slam of a door further up the hall, even with such a muggy, pain-induced feeling clouding her brain.

"Damn it," the brunette said through clenched teeth, "Snape must've heard me." She momentarily wondered where Harry and Ron were. "Must've gone to get Madam Pomfrey," she muttered painfully.

Hermione squinted up from her half-sitting position on the floor to see a dark figure in billowing green robes advancing on her. Her brain may have been muzzy and the figure bat-like, but it was most definitely not the Potions Master coming towards her. She winced in pain, as her vision became blurrier.

"Bugger," she said, "you're not Professor Snape…"

Hermione then promptly passed out leaving the tall man looming over her utterly perplexed.

…

Salazar Slytherin sat at his desk marking papers. He rubbed the bridge of his nose in irritation and exasperation at his students' lack of writing skills. He could most definitely feel a migraine coming on. It wasn't actually the fault of these youngsters as most of them had come from impoverished muggle families who couldn't afford to educate their children. Most of them weren't educated themselves, which led to the mass, hysterical fear about magic. Hence why he and those other three dunderheads had established Hogwarts as a secret (from muggles that is) place of magical learning. He sighed again and was startled slightly by a sudden crashing noise outside his classroom.

Salazar jumped up from his seat, knocking it over in the process. He grabbed his wand and headed to the door, violently jerking it open so that it hit the stone wall behind it. He stalked through it and out into the passageway, emerald robes billowing behind him. He was immensely surprised to find a young witch in unfamiliar black robes upon which he could see the Hogwarts crest, which perplexed him. She was wearing the House colours of that insufferable Gryffindor fool, but her clothes were strange indeed… and he could see her legs! He blushed scarlet as he advanced on the prone young woman.

She began babbling in an unfamiliar tongue and passed out as he got closer, which also surprised him. Salazar saw that her leg was clearly broken… no limb should be at that angle and he sighed. He would have to take her to the hospital wing. He shuddered at the thought of yet another encounter with that objectionable MacLeod woman and her unbearable charm offensive. Looking down at the strange girl he knew that he didn't have a choice but to swallow his pride and brave the infirmary. If he ever wanted to know what was going on here, that is. Damn, he thought. He muttered a spell and levitated the girl, stalking towards the hospital wing with the unconscious girl in tow.


	3. Chapter 2: Days of Yore

Over 1,600 words _and_ an update less than a month since the last one. Wow, that's a real achievement for me, you should be proud. Lol.

Anyhoo, this chapter is certainly worth the wait (I hope). I'm pretty proud of it anyway. I hope you enjoy it, please remember to review.

Disclaimer: I do not, nor do I claim to, own Harry Potter or any of its original/canon characters/places/events. Nor do I own the lyrics/quotes used to set the scene. The only things that I own are the plot line of this story and any characters, etc that I made up.

…

Love in Antiquity

Chapter 2: Days of Yore

"_Lovesick, bitter and hardened heart_

_Aching, waiting for life to start…"_

_- Keane, Bend and Break_

…

Hermione awoke to the sound of twittering birds and of muffled conversation in a language she couldn't quite recognise in her disorientated and half-awake state. She groaned softly, blinking her eyes open and then screwed them shut at the sudden intrusion of light. The conversation halted and Hermione felt a shadow fall across her face. She once again blinked her eyes open only to see a strange man in green robes with a look identical to one of Professor Snape's most poisonous stares plastered on his pale features. A gasp escaped her lips and she hurried to sit up, drawing the covers up to her chin as he scowled at her. He asked her a question in an unfamiliar tongue and her eyes widened in fear. She saw him shake his head and leave the room, stopping only to say something to the plump witch who was hovering by the door of…

"My gods, this is the Hogwarts medical wing!" she exclaimed. What on earth had happened? How could this be Hogwarts, but not the Hogwarts she knew? Hermione gasped again as her thoughts wandered to the contents of her school bag, which must have broken her fall – the timeturner…

…

Salazar glowered at Galetea MacLeod as she simpered at him. How he despised that foolish woman and her flirtatious manner. He hated immodesty, especially in women, and Galetea was anything but modest. In his mind she was a crude and base little harlot. She seemed to think that hanging all over him as if they were lovers would pique his interest. Instead it just piqued _him_. He had to grudgingly admit, however, that she was a damned good healer.

"Mistress MacLeod, when do you think the girl will awake and be ready to answer questions and suchlike?" he asked through gritted teeth, making a good attempt at politeness. One thing Salazar Slytherin could not be accused of was being unchivalrous.

"My dear Salazar, you must call me Galetea," purred the blonde woman seductively, "There is no need for such formality, darling."

Salazar shuddered as that awful woman fluttered her lashes at him and coquetted. How he despised her and her and her forwardness. He sent her his most terrifying glare and wished for her to burn slowly on the pyres set aflame by those muggle witch-hunters' passions. The gorge rose in his throat, but – showing great self-control – he swallowed and grimaced before speaking.

"My dear," he said acidly, "There is indeed much need for such formality and I did not give you permission to call me anything other than Professor Slytherin, _Mistress_ MacLeod. Now what about the girl?"

Galetea pouted at Salazar's rudeness, but it would not and did not stop her advances. She was as determined and pig-headed as her cousin, Godric Gryffindor, was and Salazar despised this in her and him both. It was only by lucky happenstance that the mysterious girl on the bed chose that moment to show signs of waking. Salazar immediately turned his back on the vulgar woman with a stylish swish of robes and stalked towards the girl lying recumbent on the hospital bed. He loomed over her and watched with a mixture of amusement and irritation as she gasped and tried to get away from him without getting out of bed.

"Who are you, girl?" Salazar asked, unable to hide the exasperation in his voice. His scowl deepened when she responded only by looking even more fearful. He cursed softly under his breath. This girl was clearly either stupid or foreign; he couldn't decide which was worse. Seeing that the girl clearly did not understand him, Salazar stalked off in search of Rowena Ravenclaw; she was the clever one after all…

…

Salazar knocked politely on the door of Rowena Ravenclaw's private quarters. He hoped that she would be in. He had already tried her other favourite haunt, the library. He waited patiently and this was quickly rewarded by a soft call of "Come in" from within. He opened the door and entered, closing it gently behind him.

"Ah, Salazar," said an auburn-haired witch in sapphire-blue robes jovially as she offered him her hand, "What brings you to my humble abode?"

Salazar stepped forward and took the proffered hand, smiling delicately to himself as he kissed it. The thing that he loved about Rowena was that she could almost always make him smile. She was one of the brightest witches of their age and Salazar greatly admired her and she him. Their affection for each other was not that of lovers, but was akin to that of siblings.

"The small matter of the girl I found outside of my classroom yesterday," said Salazar, raising one thin, black eyebrow.

Rowena shook her head and smiled warmly at her companion, "I take it that she is awake and still speaking in tongues then, good sir?"

Salazar nodded and Rowena continued, "I see, and so you seek me out. Why I wonder? Perhaps you seek my great wisdom and skill with languages, hmm?"

"Indeed, fair lady," said Salazar, bowing exaggeratedly, again taking Rowena's hand and pressing it to his lips. This sense of fun that lived buried within Salazar was let out so rarely, even in the presence of his greatest friends, but it was there – no matter what popular belief held.

"Well then, my good sir, let us away and not tarry here while there is work to be done," said Rowena, amusement sparkling in her eyes as Salazar, ever the gentleman, offered her his arm to escort her to the hospital wing.

…

Hermione looked up as the man from before entered, escorting a beautiful woman with an intelligent look in her grey-blue eyes. They made their way over to her bedside and the tall man conjured a chair for the woman before standing solemnly behind her as she sat close to Hermione. The woman in blue smiled warmly at Hermione and this made her feel safe, much safer than she had with the man in green or the plump medi-witch. The woman said something that Hermione didn't understand at all, but the words seemed similar to those uttered harshly by the man only half-an-hour (or so Hermione had deduced from the movements of the sun) earlier. Perhaps they were asking her name or how she had got there. Hermione sighed in exasperation and decided to speak to see if they perhaps recognised her language as she did not recognise theirs.

"I'm sorry," she said sadly, "I don't understand a word you're saying."

…

Salazar and Rowena started as the girl spoke. _Not stupid after all_, thought Salazar. They looked at each other and nodded slightly. Clearly this girl did not understand their language, just as they did not understand hers. Rowena uttered a spell and they watched as the girl tried to defend herself with her arms. Surely she couldn't be a muggle? Salazar was filled with questions and it took all of his self-restraint to wait patiently while the language spell (one of Rowena's own creations) did its work.

…

Hermione felt the spell wash over her and dropped her arms so that they rested in her lap. She felt warmth spread over her and a small smile graced her lips. She closed her eyes briefly as she felt a new awareness of the world around her; she felt as if she had suddenly obtained some new wisdom and this made her feel the way that learning always did – warm, intelligent and powerful. She opened her eyes and watched the two strangers with suspicion and curiosity in her gaze.

"Who are you, dear?" asked the woman in friendly tones, "And do you know where you are?"

Hermione took a moment to contemplate the witch sitting before her; she reminded Hermione of Professor McGonagall. This made her feel safe, so she decided to answer the woman's questions as thoroughly and truthfully as she safely could.

"My name is Hermione Granger and this appears to be Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," said Hermione softly, "This may sound like a rather stupid question to you, but, what year is it?"

Rowena and Salazar glanced briefly at each other in confusion at the girl's question, but Rowena decided to answer it. They were both intrigued as to how this strange young woman knew about Hogwarts and had been found their wearing strange robes emblazoned with Godric's house colours and coat of arms.

"Why, it would be AD 993, lady" answered Rowena, "It is indeed a strange question to ask."

Hermione gasped and her hand flew to her face. She let out a half-strangled cry and began to hyperventilate. She took in the colour of her inquisitors' robes for the first time; she saw the scowling face and pasty features of the tall wizard and the noble bearing of the woman with intelligence dancing in her eyes. These were two of the Founders of Hogwarts!

"Oh my God," exclaimed Hermione breathlessly, verging on hysteria, "This can't be happening to me! You-you can't be Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin… this can't be real! I must be dreaming!"

Rowena and Salazar started suddenly at the ramblings of the girl in front of them. Rowena's frown deepened and Salazar scowled at the chit of a girl before growling, "How in the name of the Good Lord do you know who we are!"

Hermione visibly paled as she took in this new piece of information. She really was in 993 AD, sitting in Hogwarts' hospital wing being confronted by one angry and another confused founder. She _had_ smashed her timeturner when she fell.

"Oh no…" she said and promptly fainted.


	4. Chapter 3: Animosity and Association

Erm… yeah… please don't kill me! I'm really sorry, but I've been extremely busy… plus, you know how short my attention span is. Anyhoo, I hope that OVER TWO THOUSAND WORDS will make up for how long it took me to write this. I'm making no promises about quicker updates in future, because I always end up breaking them by accident. I hope y'all enjoy this humble offering and I thank all my lovely, faithful, patient (sweatdrops sorry) reviewers, you guys make it all worthwhile!

Disclaimer: I do not, nor do I claim to, own Harry Potter or any of its original/canon characters/places/events. Nor do I own the lyrics/quotes used to set the scene. The only things that I own are the plot line of this story and any characters, etc that I made up.

…

Chapter 3: Animosity and Association

"_Are you proud_

_To have founded a brand new behaviour_

_With hatred and hurt as your saviour…"_

_KT Tunstall, Another Place to Fall_

…

Hermione awoke once again, but this time the sun playing on her drowsy features was heavy and orange. The light outside was waning as the sun fell lower and lower within the evening sky. Salazar and Rowena had gone. In their place was a large man with long hair; Godric Gryffindor she presumed, judging by the colour of his robes.

"You're awake again then, girl. I am Godric Gryffindor and, from what Rowena and Salazar have been saying, you appear to be connected to my House in some mysterious fashion," said Godric rather gruffly, proving Hermione's assumptions to be correct.

"Yes, you could say that I suppose, " she said softly, still rather dazed and overwhelmed by her recent accidental time travel; not to mention the various spells and potions used upon her by the hapless Galatea MacLeod. One thing was for sure, that woman (as Hermione and Salazar had both, somewhat less than affectionately, come to call her independently of each other), was no Madame Pomfrey.

"I see…" said Godric impatiently, clearly waiting for the girl before him to elaborate. Hermione sighed. "I think I would rather not explain myself more that I have to. Can your curiosity hold out until all parties concerned are present?"

"Of course, I understand. I shall alert the others and return shortly," Godric said curtly. He moved quickly from his previous position sitting on the seat that Salazar had conjured earlier. "I believe you shall find more suitable attire than that which your are wearing has been provided," at which point he inclined his head towards a pile of neatly folded robes on the bedside cabinet. He bowed stiffly, frowning as he did so and swept out of the room in search of the others. If Hermione hadn't known better, she could have sworn that one of the Founders of Hogwarts was actually in the huff with her…

…

In the time that it took for Godric to return, Hermione had dressed in the heavy, brown robes and made her bed. She was slightly alarmed by the absence of her wand, but reasoned that one of the Founders must be keeping it and she would, hopefully, have it returned to her in due course. After all, she was a strange witch who had appeared, apparently out of nowhere, and it was likely that they could not trust her out of hand. She understood their motives perfectly well, she too would most certainly be wary of someone appearing uninvited, unannounced and dressed in an unfamiliar fashion, as she had been. Hermione blushed crimson as she suddenly realised how immodest her mode of dress must seem to these people. That must've been why there had been a noticeable note of disapproval in the Founder of Gryffindor House's voice when he suggested she change into "suitable" robes. This thought did very little to quell her rising apprehension or reassure her prudish nature.

She was startled out of her reverie by Godric gesturing for her to follow him out of the Hospital Wing. She did so in silence, contemplating what her fate could possibly be and calculating how much of the truth she could safely tell everyone in this time. Hermione was not easily frightened, but circumstances had conspired against this usually level-headed and stoic witch; even she was rather anxious and daunted by her current situation. She was not going to show this if she could help it, however, so she carefully schooled her features and continued to trail Godric. He led her in a direction she instantly recognised; they were headed for the Room of Requirement. What could they possibly want that could not be found elsewhere in Hogwarts? Hermione suppressed a small shudder, she did not currently wish to contemplate any unsavoury possibilities…

They passed the place Hermione knew to be the Room of Requirement once, twice, thrice and then the big man stopped in front of the door which had miraculously appeared there; clearly he expected the young chit of a girl before him to be impressed by this feat of magic. Hermione was having none of it. She folded her arms and raised an eyebrow in a fashion that could be taken as either sceptical or enquiring.

"Well, here we are girl, the Roo-"

"Yes, yes I _know_, the Room of Requirement," interrupted Hermione exasperatedly. She was fed up of this man's arrogance, his seeming chauvinism and most especially of being referred to as '_girl_' all the time as if she were some sort of helpless ninny. She was _not_ a useless little child to be patronised and protected by this conceited, obstinate fool! She glowered at Godric; already she felt a mounting dislike for this man – supposedly the greatest of all the Founders – no wonder Slytherin had quarrelled with this querulous man and left in such a manner.

Godric looked surprised and affronted, then suspicious of Hermione. He opened the door roughly, as if it were somehow at fault; his face was like thunder. He held the door open allowing both of them to enter and then allowed it to fall closed with a _thud_. Nobody in the room bothered to look up, obviously they were used to Godric's temper tantrums. This girl's apparent rudeness and cool knowledge did not best please him; it irked him greatly. He did not like to be crossed.

The sight that greeted her on entering this most secret of rooms surprised Hermione; she gasped, taking in her surroundings. The room before her was large and furnished with an assortment of comfortable chairs, couches, throw pillows, stools and low tables. The walls were covered on two sides with vast bookcases crammed so full of scrolls, parchments and books that would have had, even the most hardened and stoic of librarians would have burst immediately in to tears of rapturous joy and ecstasy. On the other two hung various tapestries of the generic and disappointingly un-magical hunting scene variety; these she gave only a cursory glance, they could not possibly hold her attention for long. What did, though, was the rather eclectic mixture of witches and wizards ranged around the room. Beside her stood Godric Gryffindor, now with an unreadable, but rather mulish look gracing his handsomely craggy features. In a far corner stood a tall, swarthy man built rather like a muggle tank, or possibly a small troll; he was alone and radiated an aura of brooding… not quite menace, but Hermione sensed that he preferred to be left alone. He seemed a little uncomfortable inside, definitely an outdoorsy-type. His heavy moleskin and fur robes suggested he was the Hogwarts groundskeeper; though he seemed almost as different from amiable Hagrid as Galatea Macleod was from Madame Pomfrey.

The aforementioned detestable woman was also rather obviously present, hanging herself all over a small, round-ish, blonde man who gave off the impression of a startled rabbit or a deer caught in car headlights. His slightly soiled robes, along with the leaves and other small debris caught in his messy hair suggested to Hermione that he was the Herbology teacher. To his left there was a trio of women, all beautiful and buxom. They were fairly young (between about 25 and 30, Hermione surmised) and held themselves with a rather grand and aristocratic air. _Probably purebloods_, she thought. Next to them was another group, this time comprised of a tall, well-built, heavily bearded man with a hearty laugh and a jovial air about him; a slightly shorter (but not short) man with mischievous blue eyes and a prominent, Roman nose. There was also a small, slightly built, almost bird-like woman with her hair in a rather severe bun. She had her nose firmly wedged in a book and was only half-heartedly contributing to the two men's conversation. _Librarian_, thought Hermione.

Then her gaze fell to the centre of the room, there Hermione saw Salazar standing behind Rowena's seat, scowling with arms folded; much like he had done in the hospital wing. Rowena herself smiled at Hermione before turning back to the woman beside her. This had to be Helga Hufflepuff, a smiling woman in yellow robes with warm, golden-brown eyes and cascades of curly, honey-blonde hair. She reminded Hermione of Molly Weasley and she instantly warmed to the fourth Founder. Her first impressions of these people, before having spent any great length of time in their company, seemed to already have proved the old adage that _history is written by the winners_. Godric had already proved himself to be a disappointment, so much less noble and great than she had always been led to believe, what of the others? What else had been twisted over the past thousand-something years? She sighed; she just didn't have the energy to deal with a total shattering of her previously unshakeable beliefs right now.

…

Once Hermione had been sat down on a stool facing the occupants of the room, hush fell and everyone began to watch her. She gulped nervously. It felt as if she were back in first year, being sorted in front of the entire school… in fact, it felt like her first day of Primary school. No, even that wasn't the right way to describe how she was feeling; Hermione felt as if she were on before the entire the Ministry of Magic, about to be sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban! She wasn't sure whether this was intentional on the part of those preparing to interrogate her, but if it was, then they were doing a rather good job of intimidating her. Hermione being who she was, however, was stubbornly not going to show this. She squared her jaw and waited patiently for her 'trial' to begin.

Rowena was the first to speak, while Helga smiled encouragingly at Hermione from beside her friend. She went through introductions swiftly, proving that Hermione's instincts were once again correct. The man she had known to be the Herbology teacher was called Daffyd Dyl; a name that made the corners of her mouth turn up in open amusement. He seemed used to it and smiled back meekly. The man charged with the joint tasks of Hogwarts' groundskeeper and caretaker was introduced only as Blud and the only response elicited from this enigmatic man was a grunt in the way of a greeting. The three sirens (as Hermione had come to think of them) were Circe Anderson (Arithmancy), Morwen Yaxley (History of Magic) and Margueritte MacMillan (Care of Magical Creatures) respectively. The Librarian was introduced as Lady Laurel Maywynd, apparently a member of wizarding aristocracy, but she didn't look it and said that she _most certainly did not feel like one_. The large, bearded man was Oleg Thorsson, teacher of Runes, reading and Writing. Hermione was surprised, he did not look much like an academic, but he had very kind eyes. His Roman-looking friend was Martius Pontifex and he taught both Flying and Transfiguration. So, that left Defence Against the Dark Arts (though not as she knew it) to Godric; Potions to Salazar; Divination and Astronomy to Rowenea; and Charms to Helga.

Once the niceties were dispensed with, Hermione was questioned carefully, politely and, in the case of Godric, with open hostility. They were stunned to discover how Hermione had come to be there, for time travel and time turners were still a good way off into the future. Surely what she said couldn't be true?

"…but travelling through time and space is just a theory, only the mad would contemplate such a feat of dangerously and practically impossible magic!" thundered Godric.

"_Practically_, but not impossible my dear fellow," rebutted Oleg good-naturedly.

"I agree with Oleg, Godric," said Helga softly, "If Miss Granger says that she travelled here from a thousand years into the future, I think we should believe her." There was a chorus of assent and nodded heads. Only Blud and Salazar did not answer.

"Surely you do not agree with these fools, Salazar?" entreated Godric desperately, he knew better than try to make Blud speak when he did not wish to.

"Ordinarily I would not," answered Salazar dryly, " but on this occasion, I believe them to be correct." Godric appeared to be about to argue, but Salazar held up a hand to silence him, "And, no, I would never be so petty as to disagree with you just for the pleasure of vexing you on such grave a matter as this. That, I am afraid, is your department." he said harshly.

"Then it is agreed," declared Rowena before a fight could ensue, "We shall trust Miss Hermione Granger and lend her our aid in discovering a way to return her to her rightful time!"

Suddenly, a cheer reverberated around the room of requirement and Hermione smiled broadly, "Thank you." she whispered.


	5. Chapter 4: Frustrations

Disclaimer: I do not, nor do I claim to, own Harry Potter or any of its original/canon characters/places/events. Nor do I own the lyrics/quotes used to set the scene. The only things that I own are the plot line of this story and any characters, etc that I made up.

…

Chapter 4: Frustrations

"_He calls the mansion not a house but a tomb._

_He's always choking from the stench and fume…"_

_- My Chemical Romance, To the End_

…

It had been some weeks since Hermione's arrival and things were not going well and tensions were running high. Godric was mad at her specifically and Salazar was just mad at everyone in general. Everybody was frustrated and tempers were wearing thin; there had been more than one confrontation between Gryffindor and Slytherin (the people _and_ the Houses); they could not get along because they were just to similar, both had extremely short fuses and both were intensely competitive. To cap it off the time turner was not working and research was going so very slowly. Hermione had no idea how they were made (seeing as they were _technically_ illegal in her time) and could offer little assistance on that matter. Nobody could devote their full time to the project except for her because they had classes to teach and other duties to fulfil. She had, however, become fast friends with Lady Maywynd ("Call me Laurel, dear"), the librarian, as well as the two female Founders, the jovial Oleg and some of the other teachers. She had also met a few of the students in the many hours she had spent doing research in the library, but most of them were wary of her. This was not surprising, of course, but it made her slightly sad nonetheless. As far as she was aware, none of the students knew the truth about her and even if they had, it was highly doubtful any of them would be any less cautious around her; indeed that would probably make them even more so.

Hermione stretched her arms above her head and straightened her aching back; she had been sitting bent over scrolls, parchments and books on various different subjects for hours. There was a small pile of unread texts in front of her; an even smaller pile of useful ones to her right and an ever-increasing stack of useless dross both on the table and the floor to her left. She sighed despondently. She was really just clutching at straws, anything that had even a tentative link to time travel and her predicament was heaped beside her; but there was so little of it. It made her want to cry, but she would never do something so self-indulgent. She had always had to be strong for the others and, even alone here without them, she would continue to be so.

"Oh guys… what are you doing now?" she whispered softly to herself, feeling a wave of homesickness wash over her. The urge to give in took her over for a moment as tears prickled the back of her eyes. She dashed them away savagely with the palms of her hands. No, Hermione Granger would never give up! She couldn't afford to. She simply _had_ to find a way home. The fate of the world did not hang on the head and shoulders of The-Boy-Who-Lived alone.

Hermione was startled awake some time later when a hand touched her on the shoulder. She hadn't even realised that she'd fallen asleep. She lifted her head, blinking in the candlelight. She uncrossed her arms and pushed herself up out of her seat. She was surprised to see not the librarian as she had expected, but Salazar Slytherin standing behind her. She turned around to face him.

"Rowena and Helga sent me to assist you," he said gruffly, looking away as he said it. Salazar was an enigma, even to Hermione, the _brightest witch of her age_. He was portrayed so differently in the history books that she knew. He was not the monster she had always imagined him to be, how could everyone have got it so wrong? Admittedly, he was very cantankerous and rather short-tempered, but he was by no means _evil_. Nor was he particularly dark by the standards of his time, as Hermione was discovering through her research and the time she was spending with the other witches and wizards here. He was certainly a better, more chivalrous man than Godric was.

"Thank you," she said, "I've not been having much luck here, I'm afraid."

…

Godric paced his office, back and forth, back and forth. He had been at it for hours. It was a wonder he hadn't worn a hole right through the stone floor. When was that wretched girl going to leave Hogwarts and be out of his hair? When would she return to her own wretched time… if indeed that piffle that she had been peddling to the other Professors was the truth. Why was she sent here to vex and plague him so! Rowena had told him that he had been taking things far too personally lately, this young chit of a girl was clearly adversely affecting the other members of staff. Once again, it was down to _him_ to fix everyone else's mess. He sighed and shook his head before striding purposefully towards the door. Godric resolved that he was going to go down to the library immediately – _that girl_ was never out of there – to give her what-for!

…

Hermione was half-heartedly leafing through a pile of Herbology texts when a thought occurred to her. Salazar, who had chosen that precise moment to look up from his own work, could tell just by the look on her face that she had reached some sort of breakthrough. The way her face lit up when she had acquired some new knowledge was… breathtaking. He swiftly shook that errant thought from his head. It could never work, she was too young and he was too repulsive by far. He sighed.

"What is it, Hermione?"

"I think I might have the solution… or part of it at least!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"And what might that be?" asked Salazar after she did not elaborate.

"Plants," she grinned, "some plants are known to be able to tell the time by the light of the sun or the passage of the moon. Surely we could experiment with various plants with magical properties to see if they could help in making the sand of a time turner."

"I do believe that you are correct," he replied thoughtfully, "We shall have to consult Daffyd in the morning, it's getting late."

"Oh!" Hermione gasped, "You're quite right, I hadn't realised the time. Perhaps we should use some of those plants to help us keep track of the time." Salazar silently stood and proffered an arm, which Hermione took gladly.

…

Godric stormed down the corridor in a foul mood. He was about to alight the stairs when he saw his intended target round the corner on his rival's arm. He was positively furious. _That girl_ seemed to be deliberately trying (and succeeding) to infuriate him. He bounded down the final three steps and swiftly closed the gap between himself and his prey. Things were not looking good for our heroine. However, Salazar saw the threat before Godric managed to get within a few feet of them and surreptitiously drew his wand. Gryffindor was famous for his impetuosity and quick temper and he was always prepared for an outburst from his fellow Founder. He let go of Hermione's arm, placing her behind him protectively. She looked slightly surprised but didn't question his judgement, she could see the glint in Godric's eyes and she still hadn't had her wand returned to her. Hermione was no fool.

"What brings you out so late Godric?" asked Salazar.

"I have some _business_ to attend to with the young lady," replied Godric silkily, "_private_ business, if you do not mind, Salazar."

"I am terribly sorry," he spat, "but I _do_ mind. Anything you have to say to Miss Granger should be able to be said in polite company, otherwise you should not be saying it, Godric." Thwarted and unable to think of a witty response, Godric growled, pushing past Salazar and Hermione as he stomped off in the direction of the entrance hall, probably to blow off some steam outside.

…

Daffyd was in one of the greenhouses (though not as Hermione knew them) when she approached him. He turned around and smiled warmly at her, wiping his grubby hands on his even grubbier leather apron and leant against the wooden bench behind him.

"Ah, Hermione!" he said jovially, "welcome, what brings you here on this fine morning?"

"Well, I was wondering if you could help me with some experiments Professor."

"No need for such formality, my dear lady. Call me Daffyd, everyone else does, even the students. I'd be delighted to offer any assistance that is within my power to grant to you. What kind of experiments were you looking to perform?"

"OK… Prof-Daffyd," she replied, "I, that is, Professor Slytherin and myself have had a breakthrough of sorts with the time turner project. I was wondering if you knew of any plants which are known to be able to tell the time?"

"Of course!" he exclaimed, slapping himself on the forehead, "Why didn't I think of it before…" He broke off suddenly and rushed out of the greenhouse. Hermione followed, stunned. For such a short man, he was certainly fast on his feet. She watched curiously as he bustled about all five of his greenhouses – strange constructs of some sort of magical bubbles and what appeared to be wood – taking cuttings and digging up roots. It was not long until he had a small collection of roots, shoots, leaves, flowers and berries to present to Hermione, which he did with a great beaming smile plastered on his round face.

"There!" he said breathlessly, "Take these to Salazar and Rowena, I'm sure they'll know what to do with them. I believe Helga and Oleg may also have some useful insights… although I should stay away from Godric if I were you… he's in one of his moods again."

"Thank you," she said launching herself at the little man, careful not to squash her precious treasures in the process. He blushed furiously, turning a rather interesting shade of Gryffindor crimson. Daffyd coughed as she pulled away from the hug.

"Be on your way then, I hope you find what you're looking for," he said gruffly as she smiled and waved, running towards the castle. He was not always entirely sure what to make of this strange girl from the future, none of them were, but he knew that he would be sad to see her leave. They all would, even Godric, as much as he complained about her being here. He also knew that Salazar would miss her most of all…


	6. Chapter 5: The Chamber

IMPORTANT NOTE: The opinions on religion expressed by our beloved Salazar are not necessarily the same as the authoress' and she would like to point out that his hatred is not restricted to Christianity, Sally doesn't like pagans either. And if he had ever heard of any other religions he would be just as derisive about them too. It's just in his nature I'm afraid. The remarks are by no means intended to offend (well… maybe to offend Godric a little, but not the much loved readership of this work of fiction). The authoress would like to apologise for any offence that may arise from her characters' misbehaviour and would also like to point out that she most certainly does not condone the kidnapping of children or adults for any reason and agrees with Sally on this particular matter. That is all, you may skip the usual explanations of lateness and return to the scheduled program now. Thank you.

OK, this took a lot longer than I thought it would, but it is just under three thousand words, so, hopefully, that makes up for the delay. I'm really sorry about that, but college is keeping me busy. Almost all my spare time is taken up by catching up on sleep (I have to get up at 6.30am pretty much every day and don't get home until 6.30pm at the earliest… fun…); doing homework and making costumes for Auchinawa 2006; my first time attending an anime convention. So, yeah, I hope you like this chapter; it's very portentous.

Disclaimer: I do not, nor do I claim to, own Harry Potter or any of its original/canon characters/places/events. Nor do I own the lyrics/quotes used to set the scene. The only things that I own are the plot line of this story and any characters, etc that I made up.

…

Chapter 5: The Chamber

"_I know this room I've walked this floor…"_

_- Rufus Wainwright, Hallelujah_

…

The mood throughout the castle was exuberant – with a few obvious exceptions, of course. Hermione's recent breakthrough had added rather a lot to the party atmosphere that surrounded all Halloween celebrations throughout the wizarding world and spirits were high (both figuratively and metaphorically). Even Salazar was behaving in a rather playful and slightly out of character manner. The only ones who did not seem affected (or certainly not in an efficacious manner) by the festivities were the ever mysterious Blud and a very irate Godric Gryffindor. Hermione was gradually growing used to his stubborn temper and the regular squabbles that broke out between him and the other members of staff. The divisions were clear for all to see if anyone were to bother looking. Admittedly some were, but the majority seemed blissfully ignorant of the growing cracks, or if they were not completely unaware, then at best they were simply papering over them. Again the young witch wondered how long it was to be before Salazar finally left Hogwarts once and for all.

One such confrontation was about to take place and, despite the good humour amongst the staff at large, had been simmering like a potion on slow burn for quite some time now. It was the night before Halloween itself, during a staff meeting that tensions finally came to the boil and bubbled over quite spectacularly. It was Godric's almost constant complaining that caused it, of course, but he would always insist afterwards quite loudly and publicly that his rival had attacked him without due cause or provocation. Salazar on the other hand would later try to distance himself from the unpleasantness as much as possible and rarely, if ever, tried to defend himself against the rumours and lies spread after the incident had long since passed. This was one of the main reasons that Godric would forever go down in history as the good, brave leader, betrayed by the dark wizard Salazar. Much of the twisted beliefs and half-truths on which Voldemort – and others like him down the centuries – had founded his Death Eaters were based on misrepresentations and perversions of what was about to happen one chill October evening and the events that closely followed it. Of course, Godric was not an evil man, just a misguided and overly proud one; had he known what he was about to cause, he would have kept his mouth firmly shut. As for Salazar, well, he would have been stronger and refused to rise to his fellow Founder's baiting. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, but it is not, unfortunately, something that is available to one at the time at which it is so sorely needed.

"I tell you Rowena, this 'time travel' nonsense has gone on for long enough!" Godric remonstrated, "We shall all be remembered for this folly in centuries yet to come. Nothing good can ever come of this. We shall all be a laughing stalk amongst our peers and posterity will bethink us fools!"

Rowena sighed and frowned at her contemporary, she made a soothing noise in some sort of attempt to placate him before saying her piece, "Godric, if this works then future generations are sure to venerate those involved in this enterprise. Were such a thing as travelling through time to become possible, it would be the greatest magical discovery ever. We are entering into a whole realm of possibilities that could and would surely revolutionise all the known, and indeed unknown, worlds. Think of the implications!" Her eyes shone brightly with excitement, her earlier annoyance with Godric already forgotten as her brain began to work on thoughts of half-realised dreams and future possibilities of knowledge that could now be gained. "And, if nothing else, surely helping a young girl to return home to her loved ones is a worthwhile and indeed, noble, endeavour.

"I am thinking of the implications, my dear Rowena," he said angrily, "Surely there are more evil applications for such a thing _if_ it were even possible. I simply cannot believe it to be right or even natural. If God had meant man to fly he would have given him wings and had he meant us to travel through time as well as space, then he would have given us that ability too. I absolutely and categorically cannot agree to be any part of this foolishness." He paused briefly for breath, not allowing anyone time to interject, "Besides, how can we even be sure that that _girl_ is even telling the truth, hmm? I still say we should have used truth serum on her or called in a skilled Legilimens."

"Oh Godric," sighed Helga, "How can you be so cynical, surely that's our dear Salazar's job. We trust Hermione because she has proven to be bright, intelligent, caring and noble. We also know her to be a diligent worker, all valued qualities of our fine Houses. She had her uniform, bearing _your_ crest, and various school related texts on her person to provide evidence to suggest that her story is true. You must learn to trust, that is what the Good Lord intended us to do. It is not for us to question His will."

"Indeed, God created us for a purpose, Godric, and if he were unhappy with what we are doing, then he would surely show us a sign. You should not presume to tell others what is not natural. And you are rather forgetting the fact that we can already fly, though in a somewhat limited sense," interjected a slightly irate Martius Pontifex, the Flying teacher.

"Yes, well, perhaps that was a bad example, but the comment still stands," replied Godric moodily. Salazar chose that moment to snort derisively at the petulance and sheer pig-headedness of his counterpart. This earned him a few raised eyebrows and an extremely murderous look from Gryffindor.

"And what, pray tell, do you find so amusing good sir?"

Salazar raised a thin, black eyebrow enquiringly, "And where, _pray tell_, would you wish for me to begin? Perhaps the sheer stupidity displayed by such a _respected _and _esteemed_ member of wizarding society? Maybe the prejudiced, outdate and defunct viewpoint of aforementioned wizard? Possibly your inflexibility and _fear_ of progress, change and anything remotely beneficial to society at large? Or perhaps I should once again air my views on your absurd religion? I can understand why you cling to such _foolishness_, Godric, but I cannot comprehend why any _sensible_ member of the magical community could worship a god who encourages the burning and murder of our kind and many other innocents besides!"

Incensed, Godric turned as red as his robes and shook with barely suppressed anger. His fists were balled and held tightly at his sides and his teeth were clenched as he answered, almost shouting. "Well, I certainly wouldn't expect a _heathen_ like _you_ to understand!"

Had Rowena not intervened at that precise moment, a mixture of fisticuffs and a wizard's duel would have ensued. "Now, now, this meeting was called for a very specific reason and by indulging in petty arguments we are not fulfilling that objective," she said sourly, fingering her gold crucifix as she spoke, "Let us return to the job at hand."

"Indeed, as usual, our dear Rowena is most definitely correct," said Helga shuffling parchment that had previously been sitting on the round, mahogany table before her.

"So what is to be done about the highly controversial issue of allowing muggleborn witches and wizards into our fine establishment?" asked Morwen Yaxley, the History of Magic professor.

"I, for one, am in favour of this proposition," said Oleg. There was a fairly broad murmur of assent and a few noises that suggested disapproval at this remark. Blud was the only one that remained entirely silent.

"I agree, it's certainly for the best. Not only will it boost our student body tenfold," said Rowena, eagerly contemplating the plethora of bright, young minds awaiting knowledge, "but it will also encourage understanding and acceptance amongst the muggle community."

"Yes, it may take time, but it will surely advocate greater integration and an end to the persecution of the magical community by muggles," added Helga softly.

Salazar snorted, "Your plan is incredibly flawed and idealistic at best. Not only are you ripping these children away from their families and friends to educate them in something 'ungodly and pagan', but you will be condemning them to a life of persecution. You do realise that, once they have been outed as witches and wizards, they will be branded devil worshippers and the spawn of Satan or the old gods. They will be 'punished' or made an example of and so will their parents. You would be sentencing whole families to certain death. It would be as if _you_ were building the fires underneath their young feet and fanning the flames set to burn them alive. I cannot condone such capricious behaviour." He finished tersely.

"Ah, but Salazar, surely you can see that by taking them away from their relatives we would actually be doing something good. Not only would we be honing their skills –which will manifest anyway _whatever we do_ – but we would be rescuing them from such a dire fate by removing them from a situation where they will surely be killed," reasoned Martius confidently.

"Indeed, we would be saving them by removing them from their muggle families. To leave them there would be to condemn them to death, not the other way around," added Oleg, "Would it not be irresponsible to allow their talents to be wasted or used against them?"

"Hear that Salazar, _saving_ not condemning," said Godric smugly.

"By removing them from harm's way we do indeed risk putting them in a different kind of harm, but surely the benefits outweigh the consequences do they not?" inquired Lady Laurel thoughtfully.

"Perhaps Salazar has a point, it would be cruel to take the children away from their parents…" mused Helga, "but in the long run it seems to be worth it."

"Listen to yourselves," declared Salazar furiously, "you're all talking about _stealing children_ here. You think that doing such a thing is going to make the muggles _trust_ us?!"

Rowena frowned, "It's a terrible decision to have to make, but make it we must. We could not possibly condone kidnapping under normal circumstances, but these are difficult times and they call for desperate measures. We must do it for the sake of the children and all future generations."

"This is ridiculous," growled Salazar, "don't you understand the consequences? Instead of preventing the burning of innocents you're propitiating it!"

A heated discussion on the matter, punctuated by a certain amount of susurration, followed until Rowena once again restored order. Daffyd had so far remained mostly silent on the question at hand, but the seed of an idea had been slowly germinating within his brain until it suddenly blossomed and he decided it was time to speak out. "Surely Hermione's existence is evidence that we should allowed muggleborns into Hogwarts? After all, she isn't a pureblood, is she? The fact that she is, was… er, will be a student here in the future _must_ prove we were meant to allow muggleborn students to study here. Right?"

The room went quiet, Rowena was surprised that nobody else had thought of that; that _she_ hadn't thought of that. "Well done Daffyd, Hermione _does_ prove that muggleborns will one day walk these halls as equals and comrades to our own children."

The room broke out into applause, but once it had died down Salazar spoke once again, "_One day_ maybe, but not yet. The muggles are not ready to accept us again as they once did before the coming of Christianity and they will not be ready for many centuries yet. By following this course of action you will be responsible for the deaths of many. Those that you do save _will_ be outnumbered by those that you do not."

"I say we put it to a vote!" roared Godric, banging his fist on the table excitedly.

"Hear, hear!" clamoured various other members of staff, Oleg, Galatea, Morwen and Martius amongst them.

"Very well, we shall do this in a democratic fashion. The majority decision is what we go with, agreed?"

"Agreed," they chorused; with a few exceptions, of course.

Morwen Yaxley, Circe Anderson and Margueritte MacMillan voted in favour of the proposition. The three women had been friends since childhood and almost always agreed, certainly on matters of great import anyway. Having one of the trio on your side usually meant that you had all three. Lady Laurel, Oleg and Martius Pontifex also voted in favour, all for various different reasons. They too were very close and tended to have fairly similar opinions on most matters. Daffyd was, obviously, also a great advocate of the cause and cast his vote in the affirmative. Helga and Rowena likewise felt passionately that muggleborns should be allowed to be educated at Hogwarts. Of course, Galatea sided with her cousin, Godric and voted 'yay'. Blud and Salazar were another matter entirely.

"And what do you think Blud?" asked Rowena, not expecting much more than a shrug in reply from the usually reticent groundskeeper.

"It don't matter to me ei'er way," he conceded reluctantly, "the'll be trouble one way or t'other, mark my words. All things lead to consequences, what they'll be, I dunno, but some'll be good 'n' others'll be bad. Just hope there's more good th'n bad."

The room was silent as they mulled over the quiet man's words. He was not simple by any stretch of the imagination, he had just decided long ago not to waste words on things that didn't matter and you were best to listen when he did decide to speak up.

"That is certainly a good point," mused Rowena, "I take it that means you are staying neutral, Blud?" He nodded to indicate that she was correct. "What about you Salazar, have we managed to change you mind?" she asked.

"You know where I stand, Rowena," he answered through gritted teeth, "I will never agree to abducting children in the name 'saving' them from their families and educating them. I could never agree to such a terrible thing. If you do not reconsider this madness, it _will_ lead to a parting of ways." At which point he stood up and headed towards the door, though did not leave quite yet.

"I understand…" said Rowena sadly, "It looks like the majority is in favour of the proposal though, now all that's left to do is consider how we shall go about implementing it." A cheer went up from all in the room, bar Salazar, who opened the door, hunched his shoulders in defeat and sadness.

"You hear that Salazar?" crowed Godric, "You lost!"

"Godric!" exclaimed Helga as she watched Salazar slam the door behind him, "How can you say such a terrible thing?!"

…

Hermione packed up her various scrolls and parchments, returning several texts to the shelves where she had found them. She sighed and wondered how the staff meeting was going. She wasn't making much headway despite her recent discoveries and the prospect of ever getting home was once again looking rather bleak. Perhaps she would head towards the Room of Requirement in order to check up on her new friends and mentors. Yes, that seemed like a very good idea indeed, perhaps they would have some fresh insight into her current predicament.

It was not long until Hermione found herself nearing the correct corridor. She was about head towards it when she heard the slamming of a door from up ahead. She rounded the corner just in time to see an wrathful Salazar stalking down a side passage, muttering things like 'kidnapping', 'what are they thinking', 'fools' and 'they'll regret it'. This intrigued and concerned Hermione so much that, with typical Gryffindor boldness, she decided to follow him to see what he was up to. Perhaps there _had_ been some truth in those history books after all!

…

It did not take Salazar long to reach his destination; what was to one day become Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Though, of course, indoor plumbing had not yet been invented in the muggle world, there was a rather primitive version involving troughs with well pumps connected to a network of pipes hidden within the castle walls for the sinks and showers. That had been one of Rowena's many innovations. However, not even the wizarding world had discovered the joys of hot water not heated either by fire or magic; or indeed such a thing as a flushing toilet. Hermione still couldn't get used to composting toilets and vowed never again to take for granted the small luxuries of modern life.

He found the sink, which he has marked with his serpent insignia and spoke to it in parsletongue, telling it to open, which it did. Hermione gasped as she watched him enter the hole that had magically appeared in the wall where the line of sinks had once stood. So _this_ was the Chamber of Secrets. Harry had told her about it many times before, but being told about something and experiencing it firsthand were two entirely different things. She felt a small pang of homesickness at the thought of her best friend, but it was short-lived as she saw the hole begin to shut behind Salazar and her curiosity got the better of her. _Well_, she thought stepping through the rapidly closing gap, _it's now or never_…


	7. Chapter 6: The Basalisk

My excuses are as follows: college, lack of time, lack of energy and writer's block. Sorry… To make up for that, however, Sally gets to act very Slytherin indeed in this chapter; proving that the best lies are often based on a modicum of truth.

Disclaimer: I do not, nor do I claim to, own Harry Potter or any of its original/canon characters/places/events. Nor do I own the lyrics/quotes used to set the scene. The only things that I own are the plot line of this story and any characters, etc that I made up.

…

Chapter 6: The Basalisk

"_And like a little girl cries in the face of a monster that lives in her dreams…"_

_- Maroon 5, Harder to Breathe_

…

Repressing the urge to scream as she fell through the pipe, bumping off of walls as her speed increased dramatically, Hermione tightened her grip on her wand and swallowed the bile rising in the back of her throat. It was almost like a muggle rollercoaster, she thought bitterly as her stomach did back-flips and she was smacked hard against another offshooting branch in the pipework. Surely there must be a knack to riding this slide into the depths of hell. Just as she was about to give up hope of ever reaching the end of this demented fairground ride, it levelled out abruptly and she shot out of the end like a popped butter-beer cork, landing with a distinct thud on her rear end. Getting up from the damp floor, she rubbed her sore posterior and thought uncharitable thoughts about the creator of the plumbing network. _Well, that certainly wasn't dignified_, she thought caustically.

Passing silently into the darkness Hermione tread carefully, making sure that her footsteps didn't echo on the cold, stone floor; as her descent into this madness surely must have. A steady drip, drip, drip of water beat in time with her racing heart; her breathing was shallow and measured. She could feel the slime clinging to her robes and hair and smell the mustiness of disuse and decay as the bones of tiny, dead things crunched beneath her feet. The sound of Salazar's muttering reverberated from within the cavernous depths of the tunnel in front of her. The sound bounced clearly back to her despite the maze-like qualities of the passageway. She silently incanted a _lumos_ to shed some light onto the situation which she had so foolishly gotten herself into. Sadly, that tiny pinprick of light only served to heighten the opressiveness of the darkness greatly.

_I feel like Alice in Wonderland_, the Gryffindor prefect thought irritability, _falling through such an obvious rabbit-hole like that. Following an apparition in the form of a white rabbit. Only, this rendition's much more twisted than even the original could ever hope to be. I certainly don't have the comforts afforded to the curious heroine of the Disney-fied version either. Instead of a faintly ridiculous forest creature in a waistcoat, I'm chasing an irate and possibly volatile wizard into a basilisk's nest…_ She paled considerably, the colour draining from her face as she contemplated her previous experience with that particular non-cuddly creature, _Oh gods, Professor Snape is right! Gryffindors are all a bunch of idiotic dunderheads with a serious death wish. Why couldn't I have engaged that famous intellect of mine **before** I jumped headfirst into this mess?_

…

Salazar couldn't shake the feeling that he was being followed. He dismissed the idea as faintly ridiculous, nobody knew about his special place, his secret hideaway from the rest of the world, where he kept all his most precious artefacts; where he retreated to when he could no longer suffer those fools in the world above. Of course, he felt that it must just be paranoia brought forth by his foul mood. _But what if it's not?_ asked a tiny voice somewhere in the far reaches of his mind, _What if someone… or something **is** really following you?_ Deciding to comply with his gut instincts, Salazar stopped in front of the grand entranceway to his _Chamber of Secrets_ and hissed the password he entered, leaving the door open and slipping stealthily behind a pillar immediately inside the room. Now all he had to do was wait for any intruders to fall for the bait; assuming, of course, that he wasn't just imagining things.

…

He didn't have to wait long, however. Whether or not that was a good thing remained to be seen. Hermione was clever indeed and had faced far more intellectual challenges than navigating the labyrinthine passageways. She was suspicious of the fact that the door had been left open so invitingly, but quashed any misgivings as cowardice towards the possibility of facing the basalisk once more. That particular reptile still plagued her at times; turning her usually sweet dreams into nightmares. Like any Gryffindor – and indeed any truly modern woman – she hated feeling weak and too often dismissed her fears as foolish. Of course Miss Granger, Know-It-All witch _extraordinaire_, was wrong on this point (after all, one can not _always_ be right about everything). Some fears are foolish and can become weaknesses if they are used against us, but they also make us stronger once we conquer them. Not only that, but they allow a person to remain human, no matter what happens to them. Someone with no fear is most certainly _not_ a good thing… someone with no fear is something to be very fearful of indeed.

It was lucky for Hermione that Salazar did not want for terrors of his own. Like many future generations sorted into his most noble and ancient house, he had learned to fear a great many things from a tender age: not least those from the more dominant house of Gryffindor. Many of the members of his house would take after their Founder in using their nightmares, the horrors of their past, to their advantage. Knowing someone's fears frequently gives you a great deal of power over them, so it stood to reason that knowing your own would give you a great deal of power over yourself. Self-control was not often achieved without first learning what – and how much – it would take for one to lose it. Unfortunately, tickling a sleeping dragon was much the same as stirring a snake's nest or going into a lion's den covered in raw meat… doing either would result in a great many things being broken. If you're going to make a Gryffindor or Slytherin (heaven forbid it, _both_ at once), at least have the decency to hide the glassware and make sure you've got some duct tape and a dustpan and brush at the ready; and a handy _Reparo_ or thirteen. Sparks were most certainly going to fly. Both physically and metaphorically speaking…

…

Hermione stepped through the open doorway, though she was not foolish enough to go unarmed. Wand at the ready, she spun around as the door slammed shut behind her to reveal an incensed and similarly armed Salazar Slytherin. Hermione threw an _Expelliramus_ at the older wizard, but he dodged it skilfully. A brief magical brawl broke out between the two which, thankfully, resulted in injury for neither party. He was the first to speak; though she would not be long behind in chipping in her two cents.

"How dare you enter my sanctuary, trespassing where you are neither wanted nor needed!" Salazar spluttered with rage, "How profoundly _Gryffindor_ of you to fire first and ask questions later!"

"And how profoundly _Slytherin_ of _you_ to lay a trap for another," there was enough venom in the young witch's tone to put even Professor Snape to shame.

"You're spying on me for that insufferable Godric, blast it!" he spat poisonously, "You had no right whatsoever to enter here and yet you did. _Nobody_ is allowed in here but me, not even Rowena! They're all against me, they all sided with that short-sighted ignoramus… even Rowena and Helga." That point was obviously still a sore one; even he could not disguise the slight hitch in his voice. "They're going to get innocents killed… just like…" He stopped suddenly as a pained look crossed his face before it was replaced with a glazed expression, which was even more frightening in Hermione's opinion.

"But, Prof-," she began.

"Enough!" Salazar's countenance once again changed to one of rage as the mask slipped back into place, "That's enough – this is all your doing mudblood! You wanted to pry into my private affairs, well, I shall give you exactly what you wanted… enjoy my Chamber of Secrets, Miss Granger. Good day to you."

Before Hermione had time to register what was happening he turned on his heel and stormed out of the door, allowing it to slam shut behind him once more. As she soon learned, no amount of _Alohamora_s or other spells would do any good; the door was just too heavily warded. Neither would banging on the door and screaming, she realised after only a few minutes of trying either. She slammed her fists into the heavy doors and let out a cry of frustration before allowing herself to slide to the floor and lean her back against the wall. _What now?_ She thought. Once again she had allowed her impetuous nature to get her into a truly awful situation… and this time she didn't have the other two members of the _Golden Trio_ to blame for her rash actions. Oh how she missed those lunkheads… right now she even missed Neville watch in Potions… heck; she even missed Professor _Snape_! Not that that feeling would last for long though. No matter how often she defended the overgrown bat, it didn't mean she actually _liked_ him.

Suddenly she became acutely aware of a distinct hissing sound in the background.

"Oh crap…"


	8. Chapter 7: Guilt

Well, again, I'm really sorry for such a long absence, but it was worth it this time. I got into art school! W00tage! Admittedly, that only excuses me for about half the time it took to write this, but the rest was writers' block and lethargy. Plus, it's over 2,200 words (only 480-ish that weren't written today), so hopefully that should appease you for now. I'm really sorry, but I hope you enjoy this humble offering. Please R&R.

Oh, and extra love for anyone who guesses what Godric was _actually_ suggesting about the pair's absence from proceedings.

Disclaimer: I do not, nor do I claim to, own Harry Potter or any of its original/canon characters/places/events. Nor do I own the lyrics/quotes used to set the scene. The only things that I own are the plot line of this story and any characters, etc that I made up.

…

Chapter 7: Guilt

"_Your dark eyes don't haunt me…"_

_- Norah Jones, Don't Miss You at All_

…

"Right Hermione, time to stop weeping and wailing and use that famous brain of yours," she said firmly to herself through gritted teeth. With shaking hands, she tore a strip from the bottom of her robes; the sound of ripping cloth seemed to her altogether too loud. She tied the torn fabric around her eyes, so that she would not meet the Basilisk's deadly gaze. Now the only things she needed to worry about were the lethal venom and being eaten alive. _Perfect, just perfect_…

The hissing grew louder and closer. Hermione fumbled around the floor in her blinded state, trying to find some sort of weapon with which to fend off the basilisk's deadly advances; her wand next to useless without the ability to aim and the unusual wards set by Salazar on the room. Shuffling methodically across the floor on all fours her searching hands met something, which promptly rolled away from her and hit the wall with a resounding _thunk!_

"Just what I needed, more vibrations to tell that overgrown tea-kettle my location…" she sighed exasperatedly. Her efforts were soon rewarded when she found the wall with which the object had collided. She picked it up and sat with her back to the damp, stone of the wall; passing her hands across the surface of the object it appeared to be some sort of polished, wooden pole or truncheon. What it was for, Hermione wasn't entirely sure, perhaps a pestle for potions making.

"Not brilliant, but certainly better than nothing," she shook her head sadly, "Great, now I'm talking to myself, that's the first sign of madness… Although, perhaps the first sign of madness is barrelling headfirst into an _adventure_ which involves following, possibly, the most famous megalomaniac in the entire history of the wizarding world down a sink…"

Suddenly, Hermione noticed how eerily quiet the room had become. Somehow that made her more instead of less nervous. Where had that blasted snake got to now? She clutched her weapon – some defence against a giant serpent with laser-vision and lethal venom to boot – tighter against her chest and stood slowly, back still pressed firmly to the wall. She drew a deep breath and swallowed the lump in her throat, "Well, here goes nothing."

And with that, our heroine set out slowly around the room, feeling her way blindly along the walls in hopes of finding an alternative way out; without coming face-to-face with the deadly serpent, if at all possible, thank you very much.

…

Dinnertime had come and gone with no sign of the sour Slytherin, which was not entirely unexpected. He and Godric both were famed for their great propensity for sulking. Either one could easily out-strop any teenager; that is, if the concept of teenagers had been invented yet. What was slightly more unusual, was the absence of Hermione Granger from the meal.

"Perhaps she got caught up in her research and lost track of the time again," suggested Lady Laurel, "I shall go and check whilst you retire, we shall follow shortly, I'm sure."

"Of course, Laurel, dear," said Helga, rising from her place at the head table, "We shall adjourn to the staff room in the meantime."

Laurel began to move towards the door, but was stopped by a hand on her arm, she turned to face the owner of the hand.

"I'll escort ye milady," said the gruff groundskeeper, offering the slight librarian his heavily muscled arm, which she took with a smile.

"Why thank you Blud, that is most courteous of you." She blushed; he just shrugged slightly and walked with her towards the open doorway. Helga and Rowena shared a knowing look and a smile as they followed the rather odd-looking couple out of the room.

On entering the Library, they were surprised to find no sign of Hermione, which was rather odd, but not alarming just yet. There were still plenty of other places the young witch might be found, the room of requirement, for instance, or…

"Well, maybe she has gone to the greenhouses to seek out more specimens for her research and experimentation. I know that Daffyd was helping her with that flower clock of hers."

"P'r'aps," agreed Blud, once again taking the dainty librarian by the arm.

It was a pleasant enough evening, rather warm for October, though still rather chilly. The silvery frost crunched softly beneath Blud's heavy boots and Laurel's slippered feet, a trail of green was left in their wake. The greenhouses were as empty as the library and the pair began to worry. Where else could Hermione be? They headed back to the castle and checked other likely places for the young witch. She was not in the room of requirement, nor was she in any of the bathrooms or her chambers.

"Perhaps we have simply missed her through misfortune, perhaps she is already with the others, playing cards or wizards' chess or reading a book…" Laurel trailed off worriedly. Blud gripped her arm reassuringly, but the expression on his face was grim. He had a bad feeling about all this.

…

The door opened with a soft creak. The fire crackled cheerfully in the elaborately carved fireplace, giving the room a warm, orange glow. The atmosphere was lively and the occupants were, for the most part, involved in a rousing game of cards and dice.

"Ah, there you are," chortled Oleg amiably, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, "we were just about to send out a search party for you two l-" He stopped short when he saw the pinched expression on Laurel's face.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh… she's not here either," said Laurel, stricken, "We had hoped Hermione was with you and we had missed her. She wasn't anywhere we looked."

"I see," said Godric, pensively, "I notice another significant absence…"

"Surely you don't mean to suggest that…" gasped Rowena.

"Perhaps…"

…

Salazar sat brooding in his dungeons, trying to forget about Hermione's terrified, chestnut eyes as he had imprisoned her in the chamber. He growled and stood up so fast that his chair crashed to the floor. He began pacing his quarters, determined to not let his steadily growing guilt get the better of him. That insufferable Gryffindor girl needed taught a serious lesson; nobody trespassed in his private affairs. No one!

It wasn't even as if the basilisk was all that dangerous, not really, not if you knew how to handle it. Not if you knew how to speak to it… and even if you didn't, well, it was only a baby: not deadly to anything much bigger than a large dog really, not _yet_ anyway… It wasn't as if it could actually kill her or anything, right? He tried to reason, but failed miserably.

"Blast it!" he barked before stalking out of his quarters, robes billowing in his wake as he slammed the doors behind him.

…

The teachers had all spread out on the search for Hermione and Salazar, hoping that no harm had befallen either of them and that Godric's implications weren't really true. It was Rowena and Godric that met Salazar coming up the corridor leading to the bathroom that housed the entrance to Slytherin's chamber of secrets.

Godric placed the flat to his palm on his rival's chest, effectively stopping him in his tracks. He threw Godric a dark look and growled, trying to step around the broader man.

"And where do you think _you're_ going, _Slytherin_?" spat Godric venomously.

"Get out of my way _Gryffindor_," Salazar spat back with equal ferocity.

"Stop it, the pair of you, stop it this instant!" Rowena cried, throwing herself between the two and attempting to push them apart before something drastic happened. "Hermione is missing, we need none of your petty foolishness now!"

"I bet _Salazar_, here knows just where _Miss_ Granger is, don't you _Sally, _hmm?"

Salazar growled again and averted his eyes guiltily, he did indeed know where Hermione was and he most certainly wasn't proud of it. Godric did not fail to spot the slump in his opponent's shoulders and his lack of resistance to the hated nickname.

"I _knew_ it, I just _knew_ it," crowed Godric, "What have you done with the little wench?"

"Godric!" admonished a scandalised Rowena, hand clutching her cross tightly.

"I-I locked her in my secret chamber," stuttered Salazar weakly, "w-with my basilisk…"

"Oh Salazar…" cried Rowena desperately, her pendant now digging cruelly into the soft flesh of her palm as her other hand went to her throat in shock.

"Wait… you did WHAT?!" yelled Godric, making a grab for Salazar's robes, "YOU DID _WHAT_?!"

"I trapped her, scared and alone, in a secret room – a heavily warded secret room – with a potentially deadly serpent…" his face was pale and drawn, he made no attempt to defend himself when Godric swung for him.

"You bastard!" roared Godric, forgetting that Rowena was present to witness this tavern brawl as he repeatedly hit the unresisting Slytherin.

"Enough!" shouted Helga, drawn by the commotion. She placed her arms around the tearful Rowena and glowered at Godric with his fist still raised, mid-punch and Salazar, with his guilt-ridden expression. Godric did not resort to such levels of violence, particularly in front of a lady, without good reason.

"What have you done Salazar? Where is Hermione?" she asked calmly.

He pointed down the corridor, "In my secret chamber, beneath the school, with a basilisk. The entrance is down here..."

"Very well," Helga intoned coldly, "Lead the way."

…

Meanwhile, Hermione had not been idle. She had slowly made her way around the room, without so far encountering the basilisk. Unfortunately, she had not encountered any alternative exits either. The hissing had begun again, much closer this time; accompanied by a sickening slithering sound. The giant snake was definitely in the room with her, but _where_? She stumbled along the wall, still clutching her wand in one hand and the pestle in the other. Bumping against something wooden, she realised that she had reached the door once more. Her spirits sank as she realised that, until someone came for her, _if_ someone came for her, she was trapped in the chamber. With a _really _big snake. _Fantastic_.

Suddenly, the hissing got louder and Hermione felt something brush against her leg; something heavy and scaly. She held her breath and stood absolutely still. Well, at least she knew where it was now. Trying not to shake, fully aware of her close proximity to the deadly creature, she raised aimed her wand downwards and prepared herself to cast the spell that would either doom or, wards permitting, save her.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_!" She yelled, scared witless, but not willing to let that stop her. To her immense relief she felt the thrum of power as the magic left her wand and hit its intended target. The whoosh of air past her face as the giant snake rose towards the ceiling and the alarmed hissing that accompanied it confirmed her victory over Salazar's familiar. She held her wand, pointing upwards and couldn't resist a little crow of triumph.

"Ha! Take that you giant hosepipe!" she taunted the levitating serpent, "I can keep this up all day you know."

…

The four Founders were rather surprised, on entering the chamber, to find a blindfolded Hermione taunting and vigorously waving a pestle at the floating, infant basilisk. Apparently she wasn't as much of a damsel in distress as they had believed her to be. Even Godric had to admit he was rather impressed, though he wouldn't necessarily admit it to Hermione herself.

"It seems we don't need to rescue you after all, Miss Granger, Hermione," said Godric softly, with a small, but noticeable smile.

"Oh!" exclaimed Hermione, quite surprised, "No indeed, though I was rather having trouble with the door… thank you."

"No trouble at all," he sniffed gruffly, pretending indifference.

"Oh, we _are_ so glad that you are safe, dear," said Helga as she and Rowena rushed to her side and Godric disabled the basilisk and let it fall gently to the ground.

"But I do believe you no longer require these," chuckled Rowena with relief, removing the younger witch's makeshift blindfold and weapon.

Only Salazar remained back, in the shadows, miserable and guilty. Hermione, was having none of his nonsense, however, and she stepped towards him.

"I am so sorry…" He said wretchedly, unable to meet her gaze, her haunting brown eyes.

"So am I," she replied softly, taking his face into her hands and forcing him to look into her eyes, "I shouldn't have invaded your privacy and I should've asked questions first rather than flinging hexes and accusations. It's as much my fault as it is yours. That's not to say that I forgive you entirely for locking me in a room with a _really_, _really_ big snake, mister." She added playfully.

Salazar smiled softly, breaking away from her hold and turning to leave, "Thank you. I will seal the entrance and erase the existence of this place from any records as soon as we leave."

Rowena coughed slightly and Hermione turned back to the other Founders. Godric was studiously pretending not to have noticed anything, but the ladies were smiling encouragingly.

"I believe that we should leave now, the others will be frightfully worried by now, " said Rowena.

"Yes indeed, they are searching the castle and grounds for you as we speak," added Helga.

"Alright," grinned Hermione as they followed Salazar back to the world above.


	9. Chapter 8: Love in Antiquity

This has been a long time in the making; I've been writing in fits and starts – even more so than usual. It's a mixture of writer's block, lack of time (Uni work/homework/extracurricular activities) and procrastination. Part of me didn't want to finish this, seeing as it's the penultimate chapter and all. I've been re-reading this in its entirety and it's in serious need of rewriting; perhaps sometime in the future when I have a bit more time. Right now I'd like to concentrate on finishing this and other projects.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this humble offering. Sorry about the wait and I thank you for your patience... again. 

Disclaimer: I do not, nor do I claim to, own Harry Potter or any of its original/canon characters/places/events. Nor do I own the lyrics/quotes used to set the scene. The only things that I own are the plot line of this story and any characters, etc that I made up.

…

Chapter 8: Love in Antiquity

"_I met you before the fall of Rome_

_And I begged you to let me take you home…"_

_Barenaked Ladies, It's All Been Done_

…

"Well, I believe that should just about do for this evening, my dear," said Godric, shutting his book with a heavy _thump_. It would most probably have received him a disapproving glare from the usually docile Laurel, had she been in the Library. He smiled at his companion with an almost fatherly air and reached over to close her book for her. Hermione looked up at him with a frown marring her features and he grinned at the smudge of ink on the side of her nose.

"But it was just getting interesting," the brunette protested weakly. Clearly she was becoming tired or she would have put up rather more of a fight.

"Dinnertime is fast approaching," he said, extending his arm to escort her, as any gentleman worth his salt would, "and I am sure a certain someone would be most gratified to have the pleasure of your company." He winked and she blushed.

"Very well, if you put it that way…" she smiled back, standing and taking the proffered arm.

Not much over a week previously a scene of such obvious affection between the two impetuous Gryffindors would have been thought neigh on impossible. Indeed it still caused some confusion amongst their peers, but it was a welcome change. Godric, like everyone else past, present and future was only human and had many faults, as well as many good qualities. He was, like many of his House, quick to judge and jump to conclusions, but equally, when given reason to change his opinions, whether right or wrong, he did so. Often at the drop of a hat. There is more than one meaning for audacity after all.

…

Salazar sat in his usual seat beside Rowena at the head table and listened politely to the conversation between her, Daffyd and Helga about how the flower clock was progressing. Apparently, there were such things in the muggle world – or there would be if there weren't already – according to Hermione, at least. He knew it was important to the time travel process in some manner, but a small part of him hoped it was an unsuccessful endeavour. The very selfish part of his heart wished for Hermione to stay with him in this timeline until their dying days; he held a deep affection for her and loved her in his own way. Losing someone that he loved was not something he wished to do ever again. It was that which had caused, at least in part, his bitterness and fear-fuelled anger of before. He still felt these painful emotions acutely – not being one to easily let go of grief and grievance – but his sweet Hermione made it altogether more bearable. She was a comfort to him in a way that even his love and respect for Rowena and Helga together could not afford him. Nor his grudging regard for Godric, which was tenuous at the best of times.

Hermione entering the Great Hall, smiling, on Godric's arm shook him from his reverie. He felt jealousy flare within him, but only momentarily as she met his hooded eyes and he saw that she smiled widest for him. Salazar stood and pulled out the empty chair beside him as the pair approached. Godric released her and the two men each inclined their heads in acknowledgement of the other. Hermione took Salazar's hand and allowed him to act the gentleman and help her to her chair before seating himself, whilst the others looked on with amusement, confusion, disapproval and indifference respectively.

"Thank you, Salazar," she smiled softly as he kissed her hand. It sent electricity shooting up her spine and butterflies dancing the Eightsome Reel in her stomach. It was strange how such an entirely chaste brush of lips on her skin could do so much to her. She thought of the few times she had ever kissed a boy on the lips back in her time. Their silly, messy, teenage advances had never gone nearly as far towards making her heartbeat quicken and her pulse race as this simple gesture.

"You are most welcome, Hermione," the words dripping from his tongue like honey as he grinned rakishly at her, "It was my pleasure." Both were oblivious to Rowena and Helga's attempts to suppress their helpless laughter. The rest of dinner was entirely uneventful and largely full of small talk and pleasantries.

Breakfast, however, was a different matter...

The doors to the great hall flew open with a loud bang, which silenced the sleepy chatter and awoke those still dozing over their porridge. A red-faced and flustered Daffyd ran through them towards the head table; leaving confused whispers from the students in his wake. Helga began to stand, but Rowena placed a hand upon her arm and she sat back down again. Breathlessly, Daffyd reached his destination and slammed his hands onto the tabletop with a loud thud. His eyes were bright with excitement and the others knew that something must have happened.

"Well, spit it out man," blustered Godric.

"I-I've finished," puffed Daffyd, "the clock!"

"Oh my," gasped Rowena curiously, "does it work?"

"I-I think so," he replied, regaining some of his breath.

"That's fantastic news!" roared Godric enthusiastically, "Isn't it Hermione?"

A very pale Hermione glanced at Salazar and smiled weakly, "Y-yes, fantastic news..." she said quietly. Salazar took her hand and squeezed it gently. Helga, Rowena and Laurel shared a look whilst the menfolk either looked puzzled or congratulated Daffyd heartily for his astounding breakthrough. Although, the man himself looked sadly at the couple, whilst being showered with – undeserved, he felt – praise. The one thing that nobody had considered, not properly anyway, about this project was that Hermione would be leaving at the end of it. They had lost sight of why they were doing their respective research in the first place; to send Hermione back to her own time. She would be leaving and they'd never see her again. It would take longer for some to realise this than others, but when they did it was going to hit them rather hard.

And so it was that the atmosphere was very mixed for the next few days. A very subdued Salazar had largely withdrawn himself from the company of others to work on the flower clock with his potions expertise. An equally reserved Hermione had taken to spending even longer hours in the Library and Room of Requirement. Neither wanted to be hurt any more by their imminent parting of ways than they already would be. Helga and Rowena, however, simply could not let things remain that way. Whilst helping Hermione with various charms and enchantments upon the vessel within which the sands of time would be placed, Helga cornered her on the subject of her relationship with the dour Founder of Slytherin.

"Why are you two avoiding each other?" asked Helga, placing a motherly hand on the younger witch's shoulder.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Helga," she replied tersely.

"I know it's going to hurt when you part, dear," said Helga softly, "Him more than you, I fear." Hermione remained silent, bent over her work, holding back unshed tears. Helga saw this and continued, "But that's no reason to avoid spending time in his company; surely the shorter your time together, the more important it is to actually spend it together."

"I know," sniffled a tearful Hermione, "but it's so hard..." And with that, she burst into tears whilst Helga comforted her; their project entirely forgotten.

Salazar banged the vials of potions down on the desk, "Done," he said miserably. Once Daffyd had explained to him exactly how the flower clock worked, it hadn't taken very long for Salazar to wrap his brilliant mind around the next set of problems; how to change it into a form that would make time travel possible. With some help from Godric and Rowena, he had finally done it. That didn't mean he had to be happy about it though.

"Salazar," said Rowena softly, "you really should stop avoiding her you know." He ignored her and continued to tidy the workbench, _scourifying_ his cauldrons and disposing of waste materials. Keeping himself busy was the only way he could think of to do to not either strangle Rowena or break down into tears. It was just so _hard_!

"Come back with me," she said suddenly, breaking the tense, awkward silence. Almost everything was ready and the first attempt to send Hermione home was to be the next night, just after moonrise. The other professors had quite tactfully left the couple to brood alone together. They had been sitting in utter silence for quite some time; Hermione wringing her hands nervously – after keeping busy for so long, the inactivity was difficult for her – and Salazar pretending to mark papers or read a book.

He put down his book and sighed heavily, "You know I cannot, Hermione, I have obligations here. I belong in my own time, as you belong in yours. It simply cannot be..."

She stood up abruptly, frowning as she crossed to his side and took one of his pale, long-fingered hands between both of her smaller ones. "Screw duty and honour and what's _right_," she spat fiercely, "The history books say you left Hogwarts not long after it was founded and nobody knows what happened to you. Who says you didn't just up sticks and time travel with me, huh? Please Salazar."

He kissed her hands gently and thumbed away the tears as they dropped down her cheeks. Bowing his head and sighing sadly once more he cursed himself inwardly for being both a coward and a slave to both honour and duty.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. You know as well as I do that is not the case," Hermione cried harder, inarticulate animal noises gyrating gutturally from her lips, as she made as if to slap or scratch him; make him hurt as much as his cold, sensible, logical words were hurting her. He caught her arms and held them against her shaking body, pinning them roughly to her sides and clutching her to his breast; crying now as well, Salazar pulled the young girl into his lap and kissed every inch of her tearstained neck and face.

Slowly they both calmed down enough that he could release her from his vice-like grip and hold her more gently, encircling her waist with his arms and stroking her copious, erratic hair. She smiled crookedly, "I'm sorry", then buried her face in the crook of his neck and began to sob wretchedly.

"No, my darling, it is I who is sorry."

He kissed the top of her head and held her until they both feel asleep together in the chair when the dying embers of the fire and a shaft of moonlight through the window were the only light left illuminating the room. Helga and Rowena found them there in the early hours of the morning, but simply smiled softly, conjured them a blanket and left the room as quietly as they had entered it. Not a word would ever pass their lips about what they had seen in Salazar's study that day. They never even mentioned it teasingly at breakfast when the pair finally surfaced. They knew better than that...

That night, dinner was a sad affair indeed, although there was an air of almost forced joviality amongst the party. They had all become quite attached to Hermione in their own ways. Well, almost all of them. Galatea MacLeod was a law unto herself and, despite receiving as much discouragement as was humanly possible, she still shamelessly chased Salazar. As such, she hated the fact that he and Hermione had become so close and clearly shared a deep affection, if not quite love in its truest sense, for each other.

"Why the long face, Salazar?" she asked, brazenly attempting to drape herself across his shoulders; which he of course shrugged off and declined to respond to with more than a non-committal grunt. "I had rather thought that everyone would be pleased that Hermione," she didn't spit the name, but said it with such false sincerity and cloying sweetness, that it dripped with venom nonetheless, "can finally return home to her friends and family."

Rowena frowned, knowing full-well that Galatea was only pretending concern, "Yes, we are and she is too, I'm sure," she clasped Hermione's hand in hers and they both smiled weakly, "but we are also sad to be losing her. Our breakthrough is a mixed blessing."

"Oh, I see," she said, narrowing her eyes. It was just as well there would be no need for her services that night, provided nothing went wrong, of course.

As the moon rose in the midnight-blue sky and the stars twinkled merrily overhead, the small group trooped determinedly across the castle grounds, their wand tips alight and their footsteps muffled on the dew-soaked grass. They reached Daffyd's flower clock sooner than many of them wished and waited quietly for everyone to get into position. Many of the staff had already said their goodbyes to Hermione, so as to not over-complicate the ritual they were about to embark upon. Blud was standing guard near the forest, to ward off any curious creatures and with him, Lady Laurel to whom he was now as good as engaged. She had become great friends with the strange girl from the future and she didn't want to miss seeing her safely returned to her home. Not to mention witnessing what – if it succeeded – would be an historic moment in the history of magic.

Rowena and Helga were whispering reassuringly to Hermione and holding her hands supportively as Daffyd and Salazar set up some complicated ephemera connected in some way with the flower clock. Godric was setting up shields around the perimeter whilst Oleg and Martius set the relative runes and checked various instructions left with them by the other staff members respectively. All too soon this preparation was done and, with a few final goodbyes, Oleg, Martius and Daffyd went to join Blud and Laurel to stand at what was deemed a "safe" distance.

Rowena looked to the skies, tracking the movements of the stars and planets with a curious device and Helga helped Godric with the central component to this particular venture. Salazar and Hermione, however, shared a few moments before it was time to be parted; probably forever.

"Come with me, Salazar," she repeated her plea, clinging tightly to him.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but my answer remains the same," he sighed, "I cannot."

She began to cry softly and he kissed her chastely on the lips before disentangling himself and leading her gently by the hand into the middle of the circle of runes.

"Goodbye, Hermione," Helga said, kissing the young girl's cheeks and enveloping her in a very maternal hug, "Good luck, don't go forgetting us now." She wiped both their tears away and smiled, breaking away.

"I won't," Hermione whispered, knuckling her eyes.

Rowena was next to hug her and with her goof fortune and happiness once she returned home. She was less tearful than Helga, but still just as sad to see her new friend leave.

Godric let a meaty hand drop onto Hermione's shoulder, "No hard feelings?" he asked gruffly.

"No hard feelings," she replied and he smiled warmly down on her.

"Safe journey," he said, moving away.

Once everyone was in position Salazar explained what Hermione had to do, "When Rowena tells you to, turn the device end-over-end fifty-three times and to the right once. Do you understand?" She nodded. Hermione did understand; and more than that, she understood why he couldn't come back with her. That didn't mean that it hurt any less, though.

Rowena looked her straight in the eye, "It's time..."

Helga, Salazar, Godric and Rowena pointed their wands heavenwards and began to chant in unison. Sparks flew from their wands and danced like marsh lights in the darkened sky. Different coloured lights were woven together in intricate patterns as Hermione followed Salazar's instructions, counting softly under her breath.

"Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven..." she began to flicker in-and-out of existence, fading more and more with each turn as golden stardust peeled spectacularly away from her diminishing form and she glowed brightly, "forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three!" She twisted the peculiar instrument to the right.

Hermione vanished...


	10. Epilogue: Sweetest Downfall

Sorry guys, I've been sitting on half a chapter for months now, knowing where to go, but not quite how to get there. Plus, I've been ridiculously busy with life, the universe and everything and continue to be so. This thing has been a long time in the making and has finally come to an end. One day I may go back and fix the mistakes and small plot-holes, but not right now. I hope you all enjoyed it and hope that you'll enjoy this chapter too. I'm sorry for those of you who may not, but it was always going to end that way. Please remember to review and tell me what you think. Ttfn guys, you've been ace!

Disclaimer: I do not, nor do I claim to, own Harry Potter or any of its original/canon characters/places/events. Nor do I own the lyrics/quotes used to set the scene. The only things that I own are the plot line of this story and any characters, etc that I made up.

**...**

**Epilogue: Sweetest Downfall**

"_And the History books forgot about us…"_

_-Regina Spektor, Samson_

_..._

...and re-appeared in the bushes near Greenhouse number 2, not more than ten minutes from when she first left her own time; startling the class of fourth year Hufflepuffs and Slytherins currently in progress. It had worked.

Hermione crumpled into a heap on the ground and began to cry. Professor Sprout bustled over, frowning with concern and crouched to comfort the sobbing Gryffindor.

"There now dear, what's the matter?" She said producing a large handkerchief, which Hermione took gratefully and scrubbed at her sore, wet eyes. She smiled softly up at the plump Professor and sniffed sadly.

"It worked," she sighed, "I'm back... home..."

"Oh, I didn't know you had gone anywhere, dear, what on earth has happened to you?" said Professor Sprout, noticing Hermione's unfamiliar attire, her eyes widening, "Where did you appear from so suddenly anyway?"

"It's a long story," she breathed, "I think I had better go see the Headmaster..."

"Yes, perhaps you should, dear," said the kindly woman, "Do you need me to come with you?"

"N-o, no, I shouldn't disrupt your class any more than I already have, Professor."

"Well, if you're sure, Hemione..."

"Yes," she replied, taking a deep breath for strength and getting up shakily, "I think I had better do this alone." At which point she left the greenhouses and headed towards the castle purposefully, leaving behind a worried Pomona Sprout and a class of curious teenagers who would, obviously, be restless and giggly for the rest of the day. Poor Pomona...

...

Daffyd's clock was so accurate in fact that Snape was still reprimanding Ron and Harry and had only made it as far as the entrance hall with them, en route to Dumbledore's office. Snape was berating both Gryffindors who were protesting, but also obviously worried for their missing friend. That's how Hermione found them.

"...but Professor, we don't know what happened," wailed Ron as the trio ascended the staircase, the boys in front, closely followed by the acerbic Potions Master.

"Well, you can tell the Headmaster exactly what it is that you don't know then, can't you," he hissed. It wasn't a question.

"I'm sure the Headmaster would much rather know what happened from someone who does, sir," said Hermione, silhouetted in the doorway. The three males stopped in their tracks and turned at the sound of her voice. Hands rested on her hips and dressed as she was, in unfamiliar robes of bottle green, she cut and imposing figure. This new maturity and noble bearing caused Harry and Ron to hold back slightly from the mad dash to hug her that they had been about to embark upon. Something had happened to their bushy-haired friend. She had grown up.

"I'm sure he would, Miss Granger..." replied Snape silkily, silently seething at having been deprived of a chance to punish Harry and Ron in some manner, "Follow me. Potter, Weasley, you may leave us."

"That's not fair!" growled Harry, "sir", he belatedly added.

"Life is not, Mr. Potter," glowered Snape in return.

Hermione sighed and smiled sadly, she was reminded of another pair set apart by their Houses and their similar personalities whom she had just left behind, "It would be best if you just let them come along, Professor. I'll only tell them later anyway, it just saves time this way."

Snape glared at her, but saw the tiredness in her eyes and conceded, "I suppose that these dunderheads _would_ only find some other trouble to get themselves into," he sniffed, "Better that I keep them where I can see them..."

"Hey-oomph!" said Ron as he was elbowed astutely (for a change) in the ribs by Harry.

"Come along then," he sneered. And they did.

...

Dumbeldore's office was full of the usual cosy, cluttered assortment of oddities and smelt comfortingly of old leather, parchment and lemon drops. The old man himself was sitting behind his desk tinkering absentmindedly with a mysterious object of a clearly magical persuasion as he called for them to enter. The whatever-it-was was quickly shuffled away into a desk drawer and Dumbleore smiled benignly.

"Lemon drop?" he offered, but they all declined politely.

"No thank you, Headmaster," replied Snape, "These troublemakers have been up to something involving a Time-turner, an illegal one I might add."

"You may leave us now Severus."

"But sir, I believe tha-" started the Potions Master.

"That will be all," intoned Dumbledore forcefully.

"Very well," conceded Snape through gritted teeth, he bowed to the Headmaster and swept, bat-like, from the room; glaring at a smirking Harry as he closed the door hard behind him.

"Now then, what seems to be the trouble?" his blue eyes twinkled mischievously as he peered over his spectacles at his young guests and gestured for them to sit in the mismatched armchairs pulled up in front of his desk.

Hermione let out a deep sigh, "It's a long story, Professor and I'm really not sure where to start."

"I find that the beginning is often a very good place," he replied over steepled fingers as he leant back in his chair.

"All right then..."

...

"...and that's how I got back to the present," Hermione sighed after a rather lengthy and heavily edited retelling of her journey through time, if not quite space.

"You don't sound terribly happy about that though, Miss Granger," twinkled Dumbledore, peering over his half-moon glasses. Ron and Harry were tactfully silent, for once.

"It's not that I'm not glad to be back," she replied sadly, "It's just that I miss the friends I made in the past too, just as much as I missed everybody here when I was stuck there. I lose either way..."

"Not quite," grinned Dumbledore and, rummaging in his voluminous sleeves, pulled out an ancient and fragile-looking roll of parchment. He handed it to a solemn Hermione, who took it quietly and placed it inside her dress robes to read later.

"Aren't you going to read it now?" asked Ron suddenly.

"No, I'd rather not," she smiled softly.

"Oh, OK," answered Ron, feeling left out and a little suspicious.

"Well, you had best not miss dinner, my young friends," said Dumbledore. Ron and Harry said a quick goodbye to the Headmaster and raced out the door towards the Great Hall and food. Hermione was slower to rise and, the boys having barely left the room, as she reached the door, Dumbledore called out one last thing to her.

"Try the Astronomy tower after dinner, Miss Granger," he said cryptically. She nodded as she left the room, wondering what the Headmaster could mean.

...

Too nervous to eat and confused by Dumbledore's parting words, Hermione holed up in her favourite place, the Library, and unfurled the mysterious roll of parchment she had been given. As she unrolled it, something small and metal fell out into her lap. It was a key with the Hogwarts' crest emblazoned upon it. She clenched it tightly in her palm and began to read.

"_Dearest Hermione,_

_For us it has been several years since we parted ways, but for you, it is likely only mere minutes. We think of you often. Enclosed you will find a key to one of the many secret rooms this humble castle has to offer. Within there are messages and keepsakes from all of your friends here in the past. Much has happened in the time you have gone from us and we have left you many writings within the collection of items therein. Remember always that we love you dearly, Hermione, our visitor from a time yet to be._

_Your friends..."_

It was signed by everyone except Salazar, which stung, a lot. She supposed it was written sometime after he had fallen out with the others, but it still hurt that he hadn't bothered to add his signature to a simple letter. Perhaps there would be something behind whichever door her key opened...

...

Following the Headmaster's advice, Hermione headed for the Astronomy tower, parchment stuffed into her robes, close to her heart and key in hand. Marching purposefully up the many stairs, she was glad that the hallways were quiet since dinner wasn't yet over. She didn't want too many awkward questions right now. She took a deep, steadying breath and pulled open the door. Having stepped into the room, she didn't know quite what to do with herself, there were no obvious doors. Perhaps there was a spell she needed to say, or maybe it was behind one of the paintings nearby. First she decided to examine the walls. Running her hands across the stone in search of a keyhole, she was surprised when someone spoke behind her.

"You won't find any answers there..."

The voice was familiar. She turned around and gasped with shock.

"Salazar!" she cried, biting her fist as she fought not to cry, torn between sadness and joy at the sight of the man she had but recently come to love.

"I'm not quite the man I used to be," he said softly, smiling at her. Indeed he was not, he was still recognisably Salazar Slytherin, one of the founders of Hogwarts, but he was a much older man than when Hermione had last seen him mere hours before. And he was a ghost. His semi-transparent, pearlescent form floated several inches above the floor as he held out a hand to stroke away her tears. His touch passed through her face and sent a shiver up her spine. It was as soft and insubstantial as a butterfly's wing.

"I thought I'd never see you ever again," she whispered.

"I have waited a long time," he said softly, dangerously, "I have aged and am dead, but not yet gone." He paused and cupped her face, making her shiver involuntarily once again. "You have not changed at all." He kissed her passionately and it was a strange sensation, but not quite an unpleasant one. They broke apart and she sighed. This would not work and she could see from his face that he knew it too.

"Oh Salazar..."

"Come," he said, "the others are waiting."

...

They finally reached their destination and came to a stop before a very plain and unassuming tapestry, which Salazar pushed aside to reveal an ordinary-looking door. Hermione clutched her key even tighter.

"Well, no time like the present," she said, putting it into the lock and turning.

"Indeed," he smirked, as the door swung inwards to reveal a modest room full of books and several chests and small boxes. They entered and suddenly it was full of spectral forms, some of which Hermione recognised immediately and some whom she did not know at all they had changed so much with age.

...

"You see, Hermione, a lot has happened since you returned to the here and now, for us at least," said Rowena, taking the girl's hand in her own, insubstantial, wrinkled one.

"Nobody wanted to cross over before seeing you once more," added Helga.

"And to make sure you got back where you were supposed to be safely," interjected Daffyd.

"Not to mention received our gifts without meddling old coots stealing them from under your very nose," said Godric, placing a still beefy, but not weighty hand on her shoulder.

One by one the ghosts said their goodbyes, and pointed out trinkets or books which were specifically from them, to a now emotionally overwhelmed and tearful Hermione, each disappearing in a shower of glittering lights and a peaceful feeling until all but the four Founders had gone.

"Are you going to leave me too?" she asked in a small voice, wiping away her tears on the sleeves of her robes.

"Yes and no," replied Helga, smiling kindly at the young girl who had been through so much and thrown through time willy-nilly. She patted Hermione's hand as best she could in a gesture of comfort and solidarity.

"We are connected very deeply to this place which we made," said Godric, "down to the very cornerstones of the foundations. Our magic is imbedded in the very fabric of Hogwarts."

"And as such, we'll never be far away," added Rowena, "We may not always be visible or tangible, but we will be here if you need us."

"All you have to do is call," grinned Helga.

They each took their leave and faded slowly into the walls, leaving Salazar and her alone once more. They looked at each other silently for a time and then Salazar picked out a weighty tome from the heavily laden shelves and placed it in her hands.

"Read this first," he said, touching her face and then fading away like the rest.

...

Hermione hugged the book closely to herself and smiled softly; it was getting late. Replacing it in its rightful place, she pressed two fingers to her lips; then pressed them to the spine. She would be back here in this place for many nights to come and she knew that her friends would be with her too. Locking the door behind her, she decided to keep this place secret, somewhere just for herself and one day she would move all of the wonderful things she had been left to a place that really was all of her own. Then she would write a book – maybe more than one book – on the Founders of Hogwarts and she would write it about them the way they really were, not the way History thought they were. She felt that would be the best tribute of all. She would see them again one day and that was enough for her. She would still miss them terribly, but this was her time and she had friends and family here to love and fight for...

...

Salazar watched her leave and smiled.


End file.
